


Foxglove

by CleverKitsune



Series: Sanguinem et Corium [1]
Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: Bloodplay, Date Rape Drug/Roofies, M/M, Porn With Plot, Psychological Torture, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-21
Updated: 2015-06-23
Packaged: 2018-04-05 11:16:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 8
Words: 9,092
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4177752
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CleverKitsune/pseuds/CleverKitsune
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fisk's second in command learns some very interesting things about a certain blind lawyer and makes a deal with the Devil of Hells Kitchen.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Order

The SUV rumbled down the narrow, filthy street on the way to the law offices of _Nelson and Murdock_.

“I’d like to resolve this Cardenas case quickly, and with as little fanfare as possible. If this woman gets enough public attention, it could make fulfilling my promise to the Japanese very difficult.”

“Understood. Should I offer the usual sum?”

“Initially… they may refuse it however. They’re new to the game, they may think it noble to keep their noses clean.”

“If they refuse sir, I may be put in a difficult position. It’s too soon after the Healy case to make the law firm that represented him… disappear. Dismissing Healy’s own untimely passing was difficult enough.”

“Fine. If we can’t buy their silence, I give you permission to… be creative.”

The man with the glasses allowed himself a slow, small smile.

“Thank you, sir.”


	2. Firm

The car rolled to a stop in front of a small, rather shabby shared-tenement building. Wesley padded inside, briefcase in hand. He came to a stop in front of a small, ill-kempt door with a handmade paper sign that read _Nelson and Murdock_. Inside, he could hear the hushed rhythm of a conversation: a high, light murmur and a rapid, squeaky response. He rapped a gloved fist against the plastic window of the door. Instantly, the room beyond fell silent and his heartbeat ticked a notch higher at the sudden quiet. Time to earn his keep.

 

The door clicked open to reveal a blonde, very pale young woman. Her eyes widened in recognition, but she had no name to address him with. Wesley smiled, showing a few too many teeth.

“Good morning Ms. Page. I’m here to see Mr. Murdock and Mr. Nelson, may I come in?”

“O-of course… I’ll let them know that Mr… I’ll let them know you’re here.”

“That would be great, thanks.”

 

Fisk’s right hand man made himself comfortable in one of the precious few chairs the tiny waiting room had to offer. He watched through the frosted window of Mr. Nelson’s office as Ms. Page waved her hands at the figure of a man sitting at a desk; presumably one of the two lawyers whom this firm was named after.

It was a little pathetic, really, how bad this woman was at her new job. Rule number one, always get a name for your employer. A name, or a lack of one, was a powerful tool.

He could practically smell the fear roll off the woman as she gesticulated in the direction of the waiting room again. He sighed.

Rule two, never let them see you sweat.

 

The seated figure stood, and the rapid, squeaky voice from earlier picked up.

Ah, that would be Mr. Nelson. Wesley pictured the short, overweight man in his mind. No doubt their secretary’s nervous summons was making the long-haired man nervous too.

Good, he could work with that.

 

Abruptly, a low rumble cut through the rapid squeaking. Wesley watched as another shadow crossed the frosted window. He heard the doorknob turn and out walked the owner of the third voice.

And that would be the man in charge.

 

Wesley stood and adjusted a fold in his suit jacket. “Hello Mr. Murdock.” It was almost instinctive at this point, the way his shoulders curled in slightly to make himself appear a little shorter, the smile with just the right amount of teeth flashing. The other man adjusted his dark glasses, and Fisk’s right hand man realized a second too late that his posturing was wasted. He straightened his shoulders, mildly irritated. He didn’t offer his hand.

The blind lawyer stopped in front of him. “I’m sorry, Mr…?”

The other man’s tone was more of a challenge than a question.

 

 

Wesley smiled. He'd always been fond of challenges.

And, if he was honest,it didn’t hurt that this particular challenge was…rather compelling. The man in dark glasses was impeccably dressed, conventionally attractive, and had some rather impressive cuts along his left eye. He remembered reading that Mr. Murdock’s father had been a boxer, but he’d be more than a little surprised if his blind son had taken up boxing as well. Perhaps the man had been mugged or had run into something, he was blind after all…

 

He picked up his briefcase as the other two trailed into the waiting room. “We’ve met before, I’m here to represent the interests of my employer, Global Industries.” He gestured toward the small conference room. “May I sit down?


	3. Subtleties

Mr. Nelson’s hand fluttered on the table in front of him.

“So, just so I’m clear… your employer is willing to offer-”

“A very generous sum, to both your firm and Mrs. Cardenas directly, in exchange for a quick and quiet resolution to this case.”

 

Wesley watched a bead of sweat roll down the nervous lawyer’s face. He had to give Mr. Nelson credit; the man was less of a coward than his demeanor suggested. He hadn’t immediately jumped at the money, though the look he had exchanged with Ms. Page when the offer was put out suggested that he was considering it.

Fisk’s personal assistant smiled non-threateningly at the long-haired man, relaxing his shoulders. Obviously, taking the offer would be the smartest option for several reasons, the foremost being that this firm clearly needed money. He also knew the sweaty man across from him wasn’t stupid. He knew what sort of people he would be refusing if he didn’t take the money.

He looked down at his briefcase. Mr. Nelson was clearly intelligent, nervous but calculating, and if Wesley could just get him to get over his moral qualms about where the money came from, make him feel a little less threatened, he was sure the other man would take the deal. He shifted fractionally closer to the lawyer, glancing up but keeping his eyes half-lidded. Mr.Nelson looked down and suddenly became very invested in shuffling the papers in front of him. Interesting.

 

Then Mr. Murdock steepled his fingers, tilting his head. “It’s a very generous offer, but I’m afraid Mrs. Cardenas has explicitly stated that she and the remaining tenants will only agree to settle when they can be guaranteed continued tenancy and be reimbursed for damages.”

 

Wesley felt his upper lip curl. Mr. Murdock was clearly the more willful of the pair, and he had proven to be exceptionally close-minded throughout the entire discussion. Wesley felt he had been truly saint-like in his patience, but by this point Fisk’s second in command wanted nothing more than to take the man by the shirt collar and shake him.

Mr. Nelson’s eyes were on his partner again and Wesley sighed and leaned back in his chair, rolling his palms upward. “Gentlemen, you’re putting my employer in a very difficult position. No one wants a drawn out court battle. The energy and expense of arguing a case with such little evidence…” He watched Mr. Nelson flinch, and really, the man’s expressions were almost beautiful they were so easy to read. “It’s practically prohibitive.”

 

Ms. Page reached out and rested her hand on Mr. Nelson’s arm. The man visibly relaxed, eyes darting to his arm. Oh.

He had assumed Ms. Page’s hire had been largely out of misplaced pity, but perhaps there had been ulterior motives for Mr. Nelson? He supposed she was objectively pretty. The woman felt his eyes and narrowed hers. He smiled lazily back. Ms. Page, along with Mr. Murdock, would now be joining his list of people who were becoming a bit of a nuisance.

If only that damned cop had finished the job.

 

“Could we…could my partner and I have a moment to uh-discuss the offer further?”

“Of course.”

And just like that,it seemed the blind lawyer was going to get his way;time for Plan B. Wesley licked his lips as Mr. Murdock turned to leave the room. Surprisingly the noise caught the lawyer’s attention, the man’s head turning towards him. Interesting that his hearing was so good.

“Could I trouble someone for something to drink?”

 

Ms. Page stood. “Can I get you a coffee?or a water or… Actually, I think that’s about all we have.”She laughed nervously.

Wesley suppressed an outward cringe. In his peripherals, he saw the blind lawyer frown in his direction,as if he could hear his distaste. “I’ll just have a glass of water, thank you.”

The blond woman turned towards the office’s small kitchen space, but Mr. Murdock held up his hand to stop her. “I’ll get it.”

 

The man skulked towards the kitchen, and Wesley followed with his eyes. Watching Mr. Murdock navigate a room was much different from watching one of Gao’s workers go from place to place.The cane in his hand barely moved, and when it did the movement was clearly superfluous; swinging only slightly upward or downward, clearly more for show than information gathering.

And that was when Wesley noticed that the blind man was favoring his left leg, the appendage dragging slightly with each step. When he paused at the sink, he subtly shifted, pulling all of his weight away from his left side.

 

Wesley had seen a lot of men injured. He’d seen them tortured, killed with excruciating slowness… and on very rare occasions, he’d seen non-lethal injuries, injuries that were meant to incapacitate and cause a great deal of pain, but not kill. Not right away anyway.

 

If he was right, Mr. Murdock was suffering from a very particular sort of knife wound. A knife wound signature to Nobu’s men, a straight cut to the back of the lower thigh, designed to slow and incapacitate an opponent if done correctly. The kind that he had just recently seen afflicted upon the left thigh of the masked man during one of his little raids.

And what were the odds, really, of this man being injured in the exact same place? He felt his heartbeat tick upward at the idea that this lawyer, this blind man, might be the very same person who had been so terribly bad for business these past few weeks…Mr. Murdock’s head turned in his direction and in that instant, Fisk’s second felt the other man’s entire awareness shift to him. The sudden attention felt like a current in the air. Wesley swallowed and the lawyer’s head tilted fractionally, in time with the movement.

He had to be sure.

Wesley glanced quickly over at Mr. Nelson and Ms. Page. They appeared to be in the midst of a heated debate,no doubt about his offer. Ms. Page had her arms crossed and Mr. Nelson had a hand on his face. Distracted.

 

He stood and quickly closed the distance between himself and Mr. Murdock. They were less than a foot apart now, and Murdock’s entire body stiffened. Wesley could practically taste the other man’s aversion. It started a low curl of pleasure in his chest, sudden and dizzying, spurring him on. The other man held the glass of water out like a shield between them. It wouldn’t be enough.

Wesley reached for the glass, feinting at the last second and tipping forward into a stumble. Mr. Murdock made as if to catch him and Fisk’s right hand man used his momentum to tip the glass out of the lawyer’s hand’s and onto his clothes.

 

The dark haired man made a quiet noise of displeasure as the water soaked through what was no doubt one of his best suits; Both Mr. Nelson and the secretary looked up and made noises of surprise, standing to come help their friend. Wesley was faster than either of them though.

“Oh I’m so, so very sorry, how clumsy of me, please, let me help.” Without waiting for a response the man in glasses grabbed paper towels from behind Mr. Murdock and began dabbing at his soaked clothing, trailing his ministrations down the other man’s front. He knelt and, out of Mr. Nelson or Ms. Page’s view, his hand slid up the back of the blind lawyer’s thigh. The man above him froze in shock, body rigid. Wesley used the opportunity, fingers tracing along the soft material of the man’s slacks. They brushed across something raised; a long, angry cut across the man’s thigh. The man above him hissed and grabbed his shoulder roughly. It was too late though, he had exactly what he wanted. Pleased with his discovery and against his better judgement, he smiled and slid his hand higher, giving the lawyer’s ass a quick, firm squeeze. The other man jumped, outrage and disbelief flitting across his face, and Fisk’s second in command used the moment to spring to his own feet.

“Terribly sorry, I’m not normally so clumsy…” He schooled his face into a sheepish expression, turning it toward the people in the room who could actually see it before quickly turning back. The blind man( _The Devil of Hell’s Kitchen_ , he thought to himself) had a lovely flush rising across his face, and he opened his mouth, no doubt to confront him, but Wesley didn’t give him the chance.

 

“I’m so sorry for the trouble I’ve caused,” He strode quickly back towards the conference table and out of Murdock’s range. “I was going to save this until after our negotiations, but I think now would be a good time to reveal the second reason I came.” He turned and pulled his briefcase onto the table. He felt the weight of Murdock’s attention as he very deliberately unlatched the clasps of the case one at a time.

The bag fell open and Wesley carefully pulled out a glass bottle of a deep amber hue. He heard Mr. Nelson gasp and allowed himself a quick smile.

“My employer would like to congratulate your firm on your success with the Healy case. Please accept this gift, with no bearing on our current negotiations, as both a congratulations on behalf of my employer and as a small apology to Mr. Murdock on behalf of my clumsiness.”

 

The long haired lawyer treaded over, his face a study in disbelief. Mr. Nelson lifted the bottle of _Michter’s Celebration Sour Mash Whiskey_ off the table reverently, turning it in the light, reading the label like an art collector gazing at a Renoir. Wesley quietly approved, pleased at the unabashed joy in the man’s expression as he lightly traced the gold circle around the label with a finger. The man clearly had taste.

 

“I’m sorry, but we can’t accept.”

Mr. Nelson looked back at his partner like he had just made all the stars fall out of the sky. The nervous lawyer swallowed hard. “But Matty, this is a Michter’s…”

 _Hmmm, Matty_. Wesley rolled the name around his mouth. No, he decided he liked Matthew better, but he didn’t miss the way the nickname had softened the hard lines of the blind lawyer’s face. Clearly, the relationship between the two ran deep. It was almost sweet, and almost definitely something he would catalog for later.

Mr. Nelson was now cradling the bottle like a child, a nauseatingly pleading look on his face, and Wesley decided this was his cue to leave. He cleared his throat. “Unfortunately, I have several more appointments to attend to today.” Fisk’s second clicked his suitcase shut and turned towards the door, “I’m sorry we didn’t get to discuss the Cardenas case further, but I hope you’ll consider my employer’s offer. In the meantime, congratulations again, I look forward to our future negotiations.”

 

He left without wait for a response. He could already see that Mr. Murdock, despite any suspicion Wesley himself may have raised, was going to let his friend keep the whiskey. Good, everything was going even better than he could have possibly hoped. He even smiled at the driver as the black SUV pulled up to the curb.

Now, to make some phone calls.


	4. Celebration

“So, was anyone else a little skeeved out by that guy? I mean, I don’t even know what to call him, he didn’t give us a name, who doesn’t give their name?”

Foggy stroked the top of the bottle on his desk. “Someone who has enough money to give Michter’s _Celebration_ as a thank you…”

 

Matt leaned against his partner’s desk, tilting his head to listen for any sign that the man in question was still on the block. The tick of the expensive watch had faded along with the roar of the SUV’s engine about half an hour ago, but he had to be sure. The sudden appearance of the man with the watch had been… unsettling, to say the least. He was sure the man was connected to Fisk, and if Fisk wanted him to revisit their firm, it meant they were close to something big in the Cardenas case. He thought of the older lady’s perfume and the sound of the faux straw braiding her purse made as it swung against her poly-blend dress. He would ask Foggy if he minded checking in on her later. Tonight, he wanted to see if he could find the man with the watch alone, find out why Fisk wanted Mrs. Cardenas’ apartment complex. He shifted against the desk, and the patch of wet fabric along his thigh clung to him. He felt the scorching, tingling sensation of blood rising along the tips of his ears.

Oh, and to kick the man’s ass for earlier.

 

Foggy’s voice brought him back to the firm.

“I can’t wait to taste this! We should go out and buy some reallly small tasting tumblers, I feel like our glasses aren’t fancy enough for this booze.” He heard the faint ringing noise of the edges of Foggy’s fingernails running along the top of the bottle. The ringing of the metal foil echoed dully off a barrier just beneath.

He let himself breath out, muffling the sound of sloshing liquid as Foggy once again tipped the bottle back and forth, no doubt to see its contents better in the light. The intact seal was the primary reason Foggy still held the bottle. Matt didn’t trust the man with the expensive watch as far as he could throw him, but he couldn’t smell any alcohol yet, and he couldn’t hear any breaks. As far as he could tell, the alcohol hadn’t been tampered with.

 

He heard the click of Karen’s heels as she walked toward the kitchen and then the tinkling peal of glass rubbing against glass “Well, we do have some tumblers… they aren’t _Swarvoski_ , but if you wanted we could pour just a small taste in each and then buy fancier glasses tomorrow.” Three glasses thunked onto the cheap wood of Foggy’s desk. He heard the tempo of Foggy’s heartbeat pick up, lub-dub, lub-dub,lub-dub lub-dub… too fast. He made a note to try steering them away from picking up fast food for late nights in the future.

“What do you say Matty, should we go for it?”

 

Matt adjusted his sunglasses. He really didn’t want to drink anything that man had given them, especially if Fisk was the one paying for it. Not only that, but he planned on patrolling tonight, and it would be just a little harder to fight off fifteen men with guns if he was drunk.

And then Foggy said:

“You know, I know that guy is a total slime ball, but is it bad that I’m kind of glad he visited? If he visited, it means they’re scared, and any reason the other guys are scared is a reason for us to celebrate, right? It’s been such a long time since we had a reason to, and we’re even all together for once. So let’s crack this baby open and taste some whiskey that’s way too damn expensive!”

Matt smiled and turned towards his friends, “Fine, but only one glass.”


	5. Heptagram

One glass, if filled completely to the brim, was decidedly quite a lot of whiskey.

It felt like he could hear the liquid in his inner ears sloshing, but it was probably the whiskey in his stomach.

Matt closed his eyes, a room that was both on fire and spinning not agreeing with a stomachful of alcohol.

His limbs felt like they were made of concrete, and the open container of Whiskey smelled too strongly.

 

Foggy burped, and then chuckled “That was sheriously only one glass? Haha this stuff… woo man, this stuff will only be for verrry special ocashions.”

The whiskey in Karen’s glass sounded like the ocean as she raised it, “Like winning the Cardenas case!”

Foggy cheered. Matt’s skull rattled with the slow groan of a chair listing to the side and he caught his best friend’s shoulder just in time.

 

Foggy’s cheer turned into a snort “Thanks Matty, what a palll. Hehe that may be a sign for me to call it a night. Or, mush better plan, we could go to Josies! Karen, let’s take Matty to Joshies, we can drink another eel!”

Karen sounded like she was laughing into a sink full of water “Well, it has been sush a long time since I had eel, Matt?”

 

He felt like he was buried in the dumpster again, feeling the dull needles and smooth, wet plastic brush across his skin. Matt shivered, repressing the urge to shake like a dog ridding itself of water. He had planned on going patrolling tonight. The back of his left knee trembled with the effort of standing.

 

No, it was definitely time to go home, regroup, and sleep this off.

And maybe write a note to himself to never drink whiskey again.

“I… Not tonight, I think I’ve had a little too much. I’m not feeling very well.”

 

Foggy’s soft, soft hand fell heavy on his shoulder. It felt like it was made of silk. “Hey, don-don’t worry about it Matty. I-we, we’ll walk you to your apartment, get you to bed, then hit the bar after, howsh that sound?”

 

“I’m okay, just need some...sleep,” He concentrated, every word sticking heavy in his mouth “and maybe some aspirin…” He smiled, hoping it looked better than he felt, “I’ll see you both tomorrow though. How about a big greasy hangover breakfast?”

 

Foggy slapped him on the back and he only just managed to avoid falling over by grabbing the desk.

“Sound’s awesome, but be ready, no sleeping in this time!”

Matt’s hand slide across the rough drywall of the firm’s waiting room. Where had he put the cane?

Karen’s hand connected with his and he felt smooth metal in his palm. He smiled with what he hoped looked like gratitude.

He heard a rustle that sounded like a tornado rushing through clothes on a line. Foggy was putting on a coat.

 

His two best friends in the whole world walked him home. If he pressed out with his cane a little less, leaned into Foggy’s side a little more, no one said anything. The city was, for once, mercifully quiet of screams.

 

A hiccup full of concern. “You sure you don’t want us… go inside with you?” Foggy sounded far away.

“I’m fine, go, say hi to Josie for me. I’ll manage from here”

“Fine, fine, have it your way. C’mon Karen, let’s go earn hangover brake-fast.” he chuckled.

 

 

The thunder of Foggy and Karen’s footfalls faded just as a series of clicking as loud as canons announced he had successfully unlocked the door.

He closed the door behind him with a slam and stumbled into the entryway. The air of his apartment felt… wrong.

 

“Hello Matthew.”


	6. Offer

The other man didn’t flinch or jump like one would expect of someone who has come home to find a stranger in their house. No, the other man tensed. His fists came up to guard his face.

It was so unexpected, so… uncivilian. Matthew Murdock. A lawyer, a blind lawyer,really was the Devil. A shiver of pleasure ran down his spine.

 

“I know who you work for. You’re the man from earlier. Get…Get the hell out of my apartment.”

By his pronunciation of the “t” in the last word, too thick and slow, the cocktail of _benzodiazepines_ in the whiskey had done their work. He knew the cost of placing a special order with Mitchers would pay for itself someday. Wesley sighed and got up from the surprisingly comfortable leather chair he had been waiting in.

 

“Now Matthew, do you prefer Matt? Matty? Hear me out, I have a proposition for you, and I really don’t want to fight you.”

“Damn r-right you don’t.” The vigilante stumbled forward, and really, it was kind of cute. Fortunately, Wesley was pretty sure his smile would go undetected. The lawyer threw a punch with surprising accuracy but unsurprising speed. Fisk’s personal assistant ducked it with ease and caught the other man in the back of his left knee. The Devil stumbled,caught the wall, and staggered back to his feet, his tinted glasses slipping from his face. He lunged at Wesley a second time.

 

And really, had he expected anything less? Fisk’s second blocked a punch with his forearm, only to have another land in his side. “O-of, listen… maybe we got off on the wrong foot. You can call me Wesley-” He caught Matthew’s arm as he failed to land yet another punch “I’m not here to fight you-” The other man’s chest heaved, his other arm hanging limp as he listened. His eyes slid to a spot just to the side of Wesley. “I’m here because I want to make a deal with the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen.”

The rational lawyer of a few hours ago might have stopped and listened to what he had to say next. Instead, a very drugged Matthew Murdock threw himself at the man with glasses, punching wildly. A fist connected with Wesley’s face. Pain blossomed across his cheekbone and his glasses were knocked askew. They felt like they had been bent.

 

Fisk’s personal assistant grit his teeth. Now that was certainly enough. Murdock got in close again and this time he was prepared. Murdock swung, and on the arch of his swing Wesley ducked and caught the Devil by the throat. “Stop this right now.” He curled his fingers around the lawyer’s neck, fingernails digging into the column of pale flesh as he shook the vigilante for emphasis.

Matthew gasped and made abortive little gurgling noises, his hand coming up to Wesley’s and grabbing it.

 

He didn’t try to pry it off though.The blind man’s palm burned against the back of Wesley’s hand as his pulse raced beneath the assistant’s fingers.

And then, a small moan escaped the lawyer’s lips.

 

Wesley felt his own pulse pick up. Matthew Murdock was undoubtedly a very attractive man. What he wouldn’t give for the situation to be a little different. Maybe he should abandon the plan, just kill the man. He licked his lips unconsciously. Matthew’s hazel eyes darted, unseeing, towards his face. The lawyer’s pulse quiver beneath his hand.

The other man’s lips parted, and his tongue slide over them so deliberately that had Wesley been the sort of person to blush…Instead, he felt a shiver of heat start low in his belly. Fisk’s assistant raised an eyebrow. “If you want me to stop choking you, put your hands at your side.”

 

The lawyer’s hand slid off Wesley’s with such reluctance that he considered the possibility that the blind man didn’t actually want to stop being choked. He relaxed his grip slightly but kept his hand on the other man’s throat.

“Good. Now, I know your little game, and you seem to know mine. You’ve caused my employer...well let’s just say a great deal of trouble, but nothing deal-breaking so far.” He chuckled, “You even helped eliminate the Russians. Thanks for that, by the way.”

Matthew scowled at him, and the absolute attention, the expression of complete disgust on the other man’s face; it was intoxicating. Wesley hummed and smiled wider. “You’d be a valuable asset, Devil of Hell’s Kitchen, but let’s start smaller. Right now, I know of at least three lives you care very much about, and we’re working very hard on tracking down that charming woman the Russians met with.”

Matthew bared his teeth and Wesley tsked and tapped his fingers against the blind man’s throat, continuing “Now, your own life, you don’t seem very concerned about. But I bet you’d love to keep those other people alive.”

“But let’s not get so grandiose, all those lives in exchange for a single favor. How about this: Get Mrs. Cardenas to take our very generous offer, and in exchange, I won’t have her killed and you framed for it.”

 

The Devil’s fist connected with his gut. The blow made him stumble forward and Wesley lost his grip on the other man’s neck.

His face contorted in a snarl. Oh,Murdock was going to pay for that. He grabbed the blind man’s shirt by the collar and yanked, hooking his leg behind the man’s knee and using the momentum to throw him to the floor. Wesley sunk to the ground and grappled with the vigilante, struggling on top and pinning him, his legs wrapped around the lawyer’s middle. He punched Matthew in the jaw. Matthew hissed and scrabbled at his arms, fingernails digging into his skin. Wesley took him by the throat, grabbed his tie, and yanked, constricting the other man’s airflow. The blind man gasped.

And…canted his hips. Wesley felt the other man’s leg brush against his own. He looked down to find the vigilante half-hard, eyes darting aimlessly as he chocked.

 

Oh, he could work with this.

Matthew gasped for air and it sounded more like a whimper, his fist swinging wildly in Wesley’s direction.

 

But first, a little more pliability. His Devil really didn’t seem as impaired as he should be. Wesley leaned in close and jabbed a tranquilizer dart into the vigilante’s neck, intimately as a kiss.


	7. Penance

Murdock groaned and it was a long, drawn out sound.

Then he swore. Wesley watched his eyes flutter open with interest.

The other man hadn’t been asleep per se, that wasn’t what tranquilizers really did, but he had been too unresponsive to really be any fun for Wesley. So he had waited patiently at the edge of the bed, admiring his handiwork. Now at last the drugs seemed to finally be wearing off.

“What the hell did you do… there’s something around my wrists. Can’t move them.”

 

Wesley decided that Matthew’s voice was easily becoming one of his favorite things about the other man.

“Well of course not, your wrists are tied to the bed frame. The drugs probably aren’t helping either. You should really get a headboard, tying someone to a bed frame is much less appealing.”

“You-you fucker. You-you threatened them. ’m going to kill you.”

The man in glasses chuckled softly “You can certainly try, but I have a much better idea.”He tucked his hand into his suit pocket and pulled out a pair of rather innocuous black leather gloves. To anyone else, they would appear to be a high-end pair of leather gloves and nothing more. He slipped the left glove on, relishing the soft slide of leather against his skin. To Wesley they were a tangible, tactile sign of his status, his power, and all the luxuries that went with it. Matthew had stilled, his head tilted toward Wesley, listening. He slipped on the other glove.

He’d earned this.

 

Satisfied, he lazily withdrew his last tool, an ordinary but very sharp knife.

Matthew began to struggle in earnest, rattling the bed-frame against the floor.

And really, he thought he was going to just kill him? After all the effort he just went through?

Hero types really were so narrow-minded sometimes. He sighed and got off the bed, pacing to a stop right beside the vigilante’s head. Murdock’s face turned in his direction, his eyes focused somewhere off to the side and his expression somewhere between a snarl and a scowl.

“I heard the knife. If you’re going to try to torture me next, you might as well just kill me. I’ll never stop fighting you, and I’ll never agree to any deals with Fisk.”

 

Wesley leaned down and stroked the other man’s cheek. Murdock visibly startled, but whether from exhaustion, drugs, or stubbornness, he didn’t move away. Satisfied, Wesley ran his fingers across the blind man’s jaw up to his temple, enjoying the slow rasp of stubble against leather. He leaned in closer, his breath ghosting across the lawyer’s cheek, and tenderly slid the knife against the man’s throat.

“Oh _Matthew_ ” He sighed the name, tasting it on his lips like _Chateau de Beaucastle_. “Your disregard for your own life would be so very noble… if I still thought you actually disliked pain. But no.” He slid the knife, feather-light, across the lawyer’s throat.The vigilante gasped and Wesley idly watched a thin rivulet of blood run down the blade.

“You see, I think you actually enjoy it. Am I wrong?”

The lawyer didn’t answer.The blade flicked down the side of his collarbone this time, blood pooling down into the lawyer’s collared shirt wherever the metal parted skin.

“I asked you a question.”

The Devil flinched and bit his lower lip, but still didn’t reply. He would have to do better.

 

Wesley grabbed the other man by the chin and pressed the knife against his cheekbone. Matthew hissed. The man in glasses leaned in so close he could feel the heat of lawyer’s breath against his lips . He heard a hitch in the Devil’s breathing.

 

“I’ve had a theory about you for a long time. The Russians thought the man in the mask running around fighting thugs was crazy. Another associate thinks you’re cocky, stupid. My employer think you’re brave, and trained to just ignore the pain.”

He pressed the knife in slowly, and Matthew writhed, panting and struggling against the ropes.

 

“But I think they’re all wrong. You see, it clicked for me when they started calling you ‘the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen’” Almost tenderly, he twisted the knife in the shallow wound. Matthew gasped.

“S-stop-”

Wesley spoke over him, “A man who deals out justice but calls himself the Devil? Now that’s an interesting choice. Skipping over ‘Captain’ or ‘Incredible’ or any other typically flashy hero name, and settling on the most damned, feared creature he could think of. A fallen angel.”

He stroked Matthew’s jaw with his free hand, “Someone like that must feel pretty damned, and while he’s dealing out punishment to others-” He took the knife away and wrapped a gloved hand around the vigilante’s throat. He let his breath ghost over the lawyer’s lips, lowering his voice to a whisper, “He’s probably looking for some punishment himself.”

 

The man on the bed jerked his head up and crashed their lips together. The kiss was all teeth and violence and Wesley wasted no time, biting the blind man’s lower lip until he drew blood. The man beneath him shivered and licked his lips. Wesley bit again, drawing more blood. He swiped his tongue across Matthew’s lips, staining the lawyer’s lips with his own blood. He pulled back, panting. The vigilante was breathing harder, hazel eyes darting wildly across the room. His face was a war of emotions; hatred, lust,…the smallest glimmer of fear. Fisk’s second in command gazed at the man below him hungrily, deciding what he wanted next. Those lips, stained red and parted were especially tempting. He straightened and slid his gloved hand underneath Matthew’s chin, stroking him like a cat.

The man didn’t lean into his touches, but he didn’t pull away either.

It was enough. Matthew’s head snapped up at the click of metal and slide of leather against wool.

“Open your mouth.”

 

The blind man’s eyebrows drew together, “I-” He flinched a second before Wesley’s open palm connected with his face, the sound of the blow muffled by leather.

“Open.”

There was no hesitation this time.

 

“Good boy.” He slid a hand into the lawyer’s hair and Matthew seemed to like that, tilting his head to press against Wesley’s hand. The man in glasses unbuttoned his boxers and freed his cock from his trousers, stroking himself leisurely as he tilted the other man’s head up by tugging his hair.

“Bite, and I’ll kill Mr. Nelson and make sure you hear every single detail.”

 

He rubbed the head of his cock against the vigilante’s lips. The blind man swallowed. Tentatively, his tongue darted out, pale pink, and curled around the underside of the head. Wesley hummed his approval. Encouraged, Matthew’s tongue slid out again, the tip sliding from the underside to the slit and back again. Wesley tilted his head back, pushing the tip into other man’s mouth. “That’s it, jussst like that..”

Without further warning he started sliding his entire length into the devil’s mouth. He groaned, tipping his head back at the hot, slick heat. Matthew slid his tongue along the underside of his cock and Wesley felt like he was getting close already. The hero's cheeks hollowed as he bobbed his head slowly, sucking with just the right amount of pressure. The lawyer’s eyes shifted in the direction of his face and Murdock flattened his tongue, running it along the underside of Wesley’s cock and pressing up with the tip just as he reached the head.

Fisk’s assistant bit back a curse as his body practically hummed in response. The man was too good at this. Adrenaline crackled into irritation and the man in glasses grabbed the lawyer’s hair, earning a pained whimper. He wasn’t done yet, and he decided how this ended.

He grabbed the vigilante’s jaw and thrust brutally into his mouth, pulling out quickly on each stroke only to force his cock roughly back in, deeper each time. Matthew started to choke as he fucked his mouth, and Wesley practically purred as tears welled up at the corners of the other man’s eyes. He pulled out, leaving the blind man coughing and panting for air.

“Much better, I think you might even deserve a little reward.”

 

He slid the knife, whisper quiet, to the Devil’s neck. He pressed the edge into the other man’s skin, lightly, making him shudder. Encouraged, he slid the knife lower, down the lawyer’s throat to his sternum, nicking the skin. Wesley paused at the first button of the collared shirt. He flicked his wrist, severing the thread holding the button and sending it flying with a pop. The man in glasses made his way down the other man’s sternum, destroying what was no doubt one of the lawyer’s best shirts. At the last button he ‘slipped’ the knife skimming low to graze the other man’s stomach. Matthew gasped in pain.

“Oops.”

“L-Like that was an accident.” Matthew rasped.

 

“Guilty.” Wesley moved down the bed, pulling the other man’s shirt open further. For a lawyer, the man was much too cut, in a few senses of the word. Murdock’s torso was a patchwork of cuts, stitches, and scars across well toned muscle. He leaned in, watching the other man tense a second before he brushed his hand across the vigilante’s chest, tracing a thin, jagged cut just above the other man’s nipple. The lawyer hissed in a breath of air. “Please don’t-”

He skipped the knife along the underside of the wound, opening it again. Matthew bit his lip in an effort to muffle a scream, the lawyer’s wrists taunt against the ropes. Wesley watched blood slip down the other man’s chest. A small drop slid to the lawyer’s nipple. Curious, the man in glasses brushed his thumb across the pink stub, collecting the droplet. He brought his thumb to his mouth and the taste of copper blossomed across his tongue. Matthew groaned.

 

“What... what are you doing? What do you want?”It was practically a plea, his voice so much softer than it had been in the office earlier.

Good, it seemed the man could learn after all.

Wesley licked his lips, collecting the last taste of blood.“Well you wouldn’t play nice and agree to my deal so… I think I’d like you, actually.” Fisk’s personal assistant climbed onto the bed, straddling the other man’s hips. Murdock arched, trying to buck him off. Wesley grinned and pressed the knife to the other man’s nipple. Instantly, the blind man went very still, his breath quickening.

 

“Good boy.” Wesley patted the other man’s cheek with a little too much force and slid the knife lower. He began to undo the other man’s belt, using the knife to pop the button of his fly.

The other man’s voice was still raspy “S-stop. I’ll take your deal, just… don’t do this. You can keep cutting me if you want.”

Wesley tsked, tugging the blind man’s pants as low as he could from this position. Matthew’s boxers were grey and looked like they were made of silk. Wesley slid his free hand to the waistband, his thumb and index finger pinching the material as he slid it between his gloved fingers. The fabric hissed as it rubbed against itself. Definitely silk.

“I don’t think you fully grasp the position you’re in, Matthew. I know your face, I know your secret,I know everyone you love…”

His tone was almost tender, his knife resting on the other man’s hip. “I own you.”

 

Wesley slid the other man’s boxers lower, revealing soft, dark curls. He felt his own cock, still free against his dress slacks, twitch. He moved to the side, sliding the other man’s pants to his ankles. He inched Matthew’s boxers down too, slowly revealing the pale skin of the other man’s hips. He felt the vigilante shiver.

The lawyer’s cock slid out. It was pale and long, already half hard from Wesley’s. The assistant swallowed, his heartbeat picking up another few ticks. He slid both Murdock’s boxers and pants the rest of the way off, settling back atop the lawyer’s bare hips. Wesley gripped other man’s hipbone in the hand with the knife. Gently, he brushed two leather-clad fingers along the shaft of the other man’s cock, leather whispering against the skin. Matthew looked like he was about to cry. He wondered what it felt like to someone whose sense of touch was so heightened.

The man in glasses pulled his left hand away and switched the knife into it. He leaned in, tapping two fingers of his right hand against the vigilante’s mouth.

“Open.”

 

Matthew scowled at him, but his lips parted ever so slightly. Wesley smiled and shoved the leather-clad digits into the other man’s mouth, earning a small groan.

“Suck.”

 

Wesley felt the tug of the lawyer’s tongue under his fingers, watched the other man’s cheeks hollow as he pulled them further into his mouth. It was heady, feeling the heat and the pull of the blind man’s mouth through leather. Matthew’s eyelashes fluttered and Wesley nicked his hip with the knife. The blind man’s eyes shot open, and the man in glasses leaned in to whisper in his ear.

“Eyes open. You may not be able to see, but I enjoy watching other people’s reactions, and your eyes show pain so beautifully.”He pressed the tip of the knife into a bruise on the lawyer’s side for emphasis. Matthew jerked away from the blade and made a pained noise. He stopped sucking.

 

“Ah ah ah.”

Wesley bit the side of his neck, hard.

The vigilante gasped and Wesley began to slide his fingers in and out of the lawyer’s mouth lazily. He nuzzled the newly forming bruise on Matthew’s neck.

“I’d keep sucking if I were you. I’m about to take my fingers back, and this is all you’re going to get for what’s about to happen next.”

 

He sat back up and ahh, there was that lovely fear. Matthew laved his tongue over Wesley’s glove, breath coming in hard bursts through his nose. Wesley began to withdraw the glove and the blind man quickly swirled his tongue between the personal assistant’s fingers, a last ditch effort. Fisk’s assistant pulled his fingers out with a pop, a strand of saliva briefly connecting the glove to the other man’s lips.

“How indecent. Look at you, you’re a mess.” He brought the hand with the knife up to the blind man’s cheek. Matthew flinched. Wesley smiled and used his thumb to wipe the corner of the man’s mouth. Then he pressed the edge of the knife to the vigilante’s throat and his other hand snaked low. Fisk’s second slid his fingers along the curve of the lawyer’s firm ass. They dipped lower, teasing him apart, leather sliding between silky skin. Matthew was so tense. Every muscle on him locked and taut. Wesley idly wondered if the Devil had ever even been with another man in this proximity.

 

Not that it mattered. He crooked his index and middle finger, swirling them around his entrance. Matthew stopped breathing as Wesley worked his fingers in slowly, spreading and sliding them inside in shallow, slow thrusts. The lawyer released the breath he’d been holding with a gasp as Wesley slid them in all at once, all the way to the knuckle. The devil bit his lip, tossing his head back. There were tears at the corners of his eyes again and Wesley thought that the vigilante would have done very well for himself if he had chosen a career in porn instead. He spread his fingers wide and brought them together again, scissoring the blind man open. His fingers slid in further. They brushed what felt like a small bump and Matthew’s spine arched, the blind man scrabbling at his restraints.

Well, that was probably enough of that.

 

He started to pull his fingers out and the vigilante thrust down, burying Wesley’s fingers back inside himself. The personal assistant bit back a groan as the lawyer started to fuck himself, impaling himself again and again on the leather-clad digits. He pulled the knife away from the blind man’s throat and tucked it into his coat pocket. Wesley’s cock twitched as he took it in his hand, stroking it to full hardness. The man below him continued to thrust down hard onto his fingers, probably thinking it would make what was coming next easier. Unfortunately for him, Fisk’s personal assistant couldn’t wait any longer.

He pulled his fingers back with a jerk and grabbed Matthew’s thighs, spreading them apart. Matthew made a noise of distress and jerked at the restraints but it was too late; Wesley wanted him, and he was done with being patient. The man in glasses lined himself up. With a grunt he began to slowly bury his cock in the other man, the head sliding inside of the vigilante in long, slow thrusts.

Matthew threw his head back “F-fuck…” he sounded strangled, in pain. Wesley gave a particularly vicious thrust and his cock slid in all the way to the base. They both gasped. The tight heat of the vigilante’s body was exquisite, almost unbearable. He found himself taking a minute to adjust, only realizing he hadn’t begun to move when the lawyer started to squirm, hitching his hips as he panted from this new form of pain. The prone man’s hands were curled into fists.

That was all the encouragement Wesley needed. He withdrew all the way to the tip and thrust back in again with a slap of skin on skin. Matthew cried out in pain and the personal assistant gripped his hips tighter, reveling in the brutal heat and the bruises the vigilante would be peppered with tomorrow. He wanted to sear the other man from the inside out; Mark him, so that everyone would know that he had been taken. Murdock clung to the sheets like It wasn’t enough. He lifted the lawyer hips to get deeper, burying himself to the base with each thrust. The other man was gasping, writhing beneath him; in too much pain and pleasure to offer any resistance.

Well, that wouldn’t do, no fun if he was giving in already.

Wesley rolled his hips, changing the angle of his thrusts until he felt his cock brush that small bump from earlier.

“Oh, oh _f-uck_ …” Matthew hissed, his spine bowed. Wesley slid almost all the way out before slamming back in at the same angle. Fisk’s assistant crashed their lips together just in time to muffle the vigilante’s scream, biting down until he drew fresh blood. He hitched his hips and began to thrust in earnest, setting a brutal pace. The slide of the lawyer’s skin against his own felt like the last drop of a thousand dollar vintage. He wanted more. He tilted his head and nipped along the other man’s jaw. Matthew mumbled something that sounded like a curse and he smiled.

“I’m sorry, you’ll have to speak up.” He whispered against the side of the other man’s throat

“I need-”

He bit down, hard.

“Hahhh, I-I need you to touch me!”The lawyer gritted out. He rutted against the front of Wesley’s suit like a dog in heat. Wesley wrinkled his nose. This suit had been very expensive.

He spared a hand to fish the knife out of his vest. Matthew’s hips didn’t still. The slow burn was clearly too much all at once and he canted his hips again and again against Wesley’s shirt, desperate for friction. The raw need etched across his face was almost pitiful. The man in glasses thrust in deep and brushed the knife against the pale skin of the vigilante’s hip.

“Beg for it.”

The vigilante rubbed desperately against his clothing. “Ahh, p-please!”

 

He slashed across Matthew’s thigh and the blind man screamed, forcing his body to still.

“Do better.”

“P-Please, Wesley, please, please touch me, I-I need you, please let me cum” he grit out, blood slowly dripping from the wound across his hip. Tears slid down the lawyer’s face as he writhed beneath him, panting heavily.

 

Wesley felt himself getting close, the other man’s wrecked body and desperation driving him closer to the edge than any aphrodisiac.

Time for a reward.

 

 

He tucked the knife away and brushed his hand through the blood slipping down Matthew’s thigh, slicking his glove. He wrapped his bloody hand around the base of the blind man’s cock and the vigilante hissed in a breath, his whole body tensing. His body tightened around Wesley’s cock and he bit back a curse, sparks of pleasure coursing up his body. He began to pump the lawyer with slow, firm strokes, squeezing the base with each downstroke.

“Faster, damn you, p-please…” Matthew was barely coherent at this point, thrusting into each of Wesley’s touches and canting his hips for more. He was sweating and his body tightened around Wesley with each stroke, driving them both closer to the edge with the feverish heat of his body. The man in glasses felt himself slipping. He let himself go.

He picked up the pace of his strokes, sliding his thumb along the underside and flicking the pad of his finger across the tip. Matthew was practically weeping, his body beginning to come undone in wild, erratic bursts. Wesley slid his other hand under the lawyers balls and cupped them gently, rolling them around the cool leather of his palm. Matthew cried out.

“I-I’m so close, p-please please please don’t stop, please-”

Wesley brushed his thumb across the underside of the head, pressing up gently on the upstroke.

Matthew gritted out a warning which Wesley ignored.

 

With a curse the lawyer’s entire body went rigid and he came, spurting cum onto Wesley’s very expensive suit. The man in glasses couldn’t have cared less because as he came Matthew tightened around him, his whole body tensing until Wesley saw white. His orgasm rushed over him with a roar, his vision going white as he buried his cock in the tight, wet heat of Matthew’s body, emptying himself into the other man.


	8. Clean Up

They lay like that for a minute, Wesley’s cock still deep inside in the vigilante as they both struggled to catch their breath.

Then the cum on his shirt began to cool and Wesley sighed, once again unaffected as ever.

He pulled out, cum dripping down the vigilante’s thighs in his wake.

 

“Well, we made quite a mess, didn’t we?” He took a handkerchief from another vest pocket and cleaned himself up as best he could. His shirt would have to be dry cleaned. Matthew’s head turned toward the noise of silk against skin and Wesley, feeling uncharacteristically generous, cleaned him up too, wiping the stickiness away from his thighs. He threw the handkerchief onto the bed between the blind man’s legs. He glanced down at his gloves, still covered in Murdock’s blood . Carefully, he peeled them off too, placing them gently on the vigilante’s chest as a finishing touch. He was sure Matthew would have fun explaining those later.

 

Satisfied, he stood from the bed and straightened, tucking himself away and smoothing wrinkles from his suit.

“Well, this was fun, but sadly I have a few other meetings to attend tonight and I’m going to need to freshen up a bit before that. Sorry, I’m not much of a cuddler.”

He turned towards the door.

“Wait! You’re not going to at least untie me first?!”

“And have you attack me? Not likely.”He plucked the lawyer’s phone out of his pants lying crumpled on the floor. The phone was unlocked (really, a secret identity and an unlocked phone?) and he scrolled through the contacts.

“Hmm…Foggy. He’s your friend Mr. Nelson, right? I’m sure he’d be happy to help.”

“No wait don’t-”

He pressed the call button and rested the phone between the crook of the lawyer’s arm and his head. Matthew scowled at him as the phone began to ring. The expression was still adorable.

Wesley paused at the doorway. “Oh, and remember our little deal, Devil of Hell’s Kitchen. Mrs. Cardenas takes the money, or Mrs. Cardenas dies, your choice.”

Matthew cursed at his back, getting in one final word as he closed the door behind him. As it shut he heard the muffled squeaking of the lawyer’s best friend crackle over the phone.

He got into the SUV waiting at the corner of Matthew’s apartment building, he smiled to himself at the lawyer’s parting words.

“I’ll see you in hell, Wesley.”

 

Not if he dragged them there first.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! If you liked it, please let me know! There's a sequel in the works ;3


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